


a bleeding heart (of stone)

by Rosedraquia



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: (especially you Homelander), (i have my work cut out for me), (jesus christ), By the end of this, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, I'm feckin doing it guys, It's gonna be a long hard slog, Redemption, Sort Of, Superhero Hughie Campbell, and i haven't even posted the first one yet, boy are you in for a surprise, but if you enjoy reading it as much as i'm enjoying writing it, but isn't an actual superhero, but these guys, decent human beings, he has a power, i'm already six chapters in, if you think i'm stopping with A-Train, more like, or I will cry, redemption fic, redemption for everyone!, relationship tags will change as the fic goes along, then we should be all good, will be feckin, you might all hate it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-09-23 17:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosedraquia/pseuds/Rosedraquia
Summary: Hughie was born with a super power. Frankly, it sucks. He could never become a superhero with it, and using it on a day to day basis just sounded tiring, and kind of pointless. Then he met Robin and she changed his mind, teaching him how it could give deeper meaning to the relationships he has with those he loves.Then she's killed.And the superhero who did it doesn't seem to give a shit.So what's a guy to do except use his power for some well-deserved petty vengeance?---------------In which Hughie uses his ability to project his thoughts at various superheroes, unknowingly changing the course of several lives along the way.





	1. Hughie

**Author's Note:**

> So my bro strongly suggested I watch The Boys, which I did. I was blown away, of course. And then I did what I'm sure a lot of fanfic writers automatically do when presented with such a well-characterised shit-show. I tried to figure out how to fix it and redeem the nonredeemable. After 4 days of my mind going completely blank, or just refusing to process a universe where Homelander isn't a terrifying piece of shit, I think I've finally hit on a way to do it.
> 
> Let me tell you guys, this was a nightmare to think up. I kept coming up with ideas and then I would be like 'but Homelander' and have to scrap the entire thing. That dick. Literally any situation in which Homelander knows who the other person is and where to find them completely nixes any attempt to redeem him, because he can just threaten or outright murder whoever challenges him. Even somehow making Hughie stronger than Homelander wouldn't work, because I'm pretty sure the asshole would just make it his mission to murder Hughie, not let the guy help him redeem himself.
> 
> Seriously. This was so hard, and it was literally all Homelanders fault. That absolute barnacle.
> 
> So please believe me when I say that Hughie has the power he has for very specific reasons. If anyone is interested in the whole thought process, hit me up, I'll gladly tell you how this came about.
> 
> In the meanwhile I want to warn you that this isn't going to be an action-centric fic by any means. This is about character development. Like so much character development. By the time I'm done with them I want to feel confident that when put in a situation, like stopping their favourite cup of coffee from spilling or saving a baby that's on fire, Homelander and the others will choose to save the baby. This is going to be hard, I realise that, but I'm already six chapters in, it's 1am, I'm feeling pretty confident.
> 
> Anyways, stop reading this, go read the fic! Enjoy!

‘_Ring ring!_’

Grinning, Hughie straightened from where he had been stacking some new stock on the shelves.

‘_I’m sorry, the person you are trying to reach is unavailable at the moment_ -’

‘_Oh, very funny. I’m almost at the store, you ready for some lunch?_’

Glancing at the clock, Hughie grimaced at the time. It was mid afternoon and he still hadn’t asked Gary for that raise, even though he had promised Robin he would do it today. Well, technically, he still had time, and there was no doubt Robin was going to use lunch to both tease him mercilessly and amp him up to actually follow through before his shift ended today.

Encouraged by the thought, he sent a surge of affection through to her, feeling warm contentment come back.

‘_Sounds good. When are you-_’

The doorbell jingled and Hughie’s heart automatically skipped a beat. Robin walked in, the sun shadowing her profile briefly, lighting strands of her hair in a halo. For a brief moment Hughie was once again blown away that such an amazing person had chosen to ask him (_him_!) out on a date.

How did he get so lucky?

“Come on Talkie, lets go get some grub!”

Hughie shook his head at the nickname but complied anyway, waving at Gary as he passed him. Once he reached Robins side he offered her his arm, only becoming aware of the smile stretching his cheeks wide when she looked up at him and smiled back.

Together they made their way out of the store and down the street, before the inevitable question came.

“So? Did you ask him?”

Studiously avoiding looking down at where Robin was glancing up at him, he focused on his feet, already feeling his anxiety trying to rise.

“Look, it was a - a crazy day, and he was super busy, but after lunch for sure.”

“Oh-kay.” Robin’s tone was dubious enough, Hughie didn’t need her to send along the emotion as well. That was just unnecessary, he felt.

“What was I supposed to do? Kick his door down? Like Homelander?”

His tone was teasing, he knew he kind of deserved the ribbing that was coming, considering he’d been procrastinating on this for two weeks. He’s not a confrontational person, okay. People get shouty, and that’s not his jam.

“I said okay.”

Robin wasn’t looking at him anymore, grinning forward as they walked arm in arm down the street.

“Yeah, but you didn’t mean it. I can tell.”

This time she did throw him a look, one that was even more dubious than before.

“Hey, I see that look.”

Pulling to a stop Robin let go of his arm and he turned to look at her as she crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows.

“This is like when we started dating.”

Thrown a bit by that comment, Hughie managed a stuttered, “I don’t think that’s - that’s true.”

Sending a burst of amusement his way that felt like bubbles popping in his chest Robin grinned at him. “Dude, I had to ask you out!”

Back on a bit more even footing, Hughie grinned back. “Well, excuse me for waiting. Ever heard of chivalry?”

They let the moment linger before Robins grin began to fade and she turned away from him, taking a step or two, visibly gearing up for something she was worried he wouldn’t take that well. “Look, this is about getting what you deserve. I’m killing myself at school because I think it’s gonna be worth it for both of us. You know, if we move in together.”

There were a number of times Hughie had physically experienced what he called the ‘blue-screen of death’, this was one of those times. His mind blanked as he processed her words, and then he really heard them, and realised what they meant and suddenly he was feeling things he couldn’t even really put into words.

“Wait, what? What? W-w-wait.”

Stepping forward he turned Robin towards him, taking her hands in his and squeezing tightly, needing to touch her, projecting his amazement and wonder and pure _adoration_.

“What was that?”

She turned her face up towards him, her smile as bright as he had ever seen it, sending love back like it was limitless. For a moment they just looked at each other, soaking it in, before her smile turned mischievous once again and he knew what was coming before she even said it.

“Well, I mean, we can’t keep, you know, doing the ‘do’ at your dad’s place. Trying to be all quiet. Staring up at that dumb Billy Joel poster-”

“Hey!” Hughie interrupted. Now, he might love this woman more than he had ever known was possible, but that didn’t mean he could let something like that land without comment. Hughie sent a wave of false annoyance at her, but Robin simply smirked and stepped back, ready to get into one of their more familiar arguments. They’d come back to what she had implied once Hughie had had a moment to process. “What have I said about besmirching Billy Jo-”

And then a rush of wind, a sound, and he couldn’t see her. Something was - was splattering over him. But his hands - her hands, he was still - still holding her hands. Slowly, feeling like it took a single eternal second he looked to the right, his eyes tracking something, and it was - A-Train? But he was covered - covered in - in blood? There was blood and - and stuff. Everywhere - it was everywhere.

Something was dripping down his face. Hughie could taste metal.

A-Train was saying something, but there was a ringing in Hughie’s ears, he couldn’t understand - what - what had happened?

And then A-Train was gone.

Hughie didn’t want to look down. He was holding Robin’s hands tightly, as long as he didn’t look, nothing bad had happened.

Reaching out for her, he projected as hard as he ever had before.

‘**_Robin_**_. Robin! Answer me! Please!_’

Nothing. Silence. Unable to help himself, he finally, slowly, looked down.

He didn’t stop screaming for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

_He killed her_.

She had been right there. She’d barely taken a step, and then he killed her.

It had been a few days, but Hughie hardly registered it. Most of the time was spent in a daze, a mix of paramedics, cops and shock. He’d had to go to the police station a couple of times, answering questions, filling out an incident report, and wanting to know what happened. _Why _it happened.

Nobody could answer his questions, or wanted to. He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t tell him. For most of the first two days he had been braced, waiting for A-Train to turn up, to - to. He didn’t know, apologise? Explain what happened?

But A-Train hadn’t come, and Hughie was slowly coming to realise that he wouldn’t, that he wasn’t even going to get in trouble. That Robin’s death was going to be written off as an _accident_.

_Collateral damage_.

As if all she was worth was a couple of hours at a station, a few rote lines of condolence from police, and coworkers and his _dad_. And then that was it. She was gone. Like she didn’t matter. Like she hadn’t even been there in the first place, except for all the cracks she had left in his life, moments he kept tripping over when he least expected it.

He kept reaching for her, both mentally and physically. It was so automatic, turning to where she should be and finding nothing there. Thinking something and automatically projecting it to her, only for it to go nowhere, the silence echoing inside his head. Turning to where she should be standing, or sitting, or lying; a sentence already started, a gesture half made, before reality reasserted itself.

Hughie had spent the last two hours on his phone, jumping between his photo gallery, Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp. Whenever she had her first spoon-full of ice-cream she would always do this thing - scrunch up her nose and close her eyes at the cold, it was such a _Robin _thing. He must have taken a picture, or a video, or _something_. Surely, somewhere, he had a record of that moment.

How was he supposed to go through the rest of his life without being able to see that moment again? Or any of the others? If he didn’t take a picture of that then what else had he missed?

Scrolling back to the top of his photo gallery he started down it again, gradually getting faster and faster before he finally drew his arm back, the frustration so bad he was fully prepared to hurl his phone against the wall. Only a last second, half-formed thought stopped him:

Had he backed up his phone?

The thought froze him in his tracks. Hughie slowly lowered his arm and let out a shaky breath, feeling the constant background headache he’d had for days now slowly throb at his temples.

He didn’t know what to do.

Gary had given him two weeks of paid leave while he got his ‘affairs in order’. That’s what Gary had called it. What did that even mean? He didn’t have anything to do. Robin’s family was organising the funeral, they said they’d give Hughie the date in the next day or two. He had started collecting a few of Robin’s things to pack away, and then broken down half-way through. Then he remembered the face she made and now he had spent a good few hours looking at photos of her and feeling like she was going to come walking in any minute. Like this couldn’t be real.

Staring at the shelves on his bedroom wall, filled with Super paraphernalia, Hughie gradually realised he was staring at an A-Train action figure. Had been for awhile. Almost instantly Hughie was angry again, and kind of feeling like he needed to throw up.

How could A-Train not come?

He had _run through someone_. Even if it was an accident. Even if he was going to stop some robbery, surely he cared enough to come say sorry? He was a superhero. What kind of superhero didn’t apologise for killing an innocent person?

What kind of superhero killed an innocent person at all?

How had it even happened? He had seen interviews with A-Train, supposedly for A-Train everything slowed down when he ran. Robin taking that one step back off the curb should have taken a minute from A-Trains perspective. Had he been distracted? Looking elsewhere? While running at a _thousand _miles per hour?

Why didn’t he come? Why wouldn’t he talk to Hughie? Or even Robins _parents_?

Didn’t he _care_?

Hughie stared at the A-Train action figure, slowly getting more and more angry, feeling jittery with it.

If that was it, if A-Train just didn’t care, then Hughie would make him care. He could do it, he had the power.

He had always thought of his power as stupid, had always said he lost the Super lottery when he was born. Robin had turned that whole notion on its head, once he told her. She’d embraced his power and taught him things about it that he hadn’t even known were possible.

They had connected on a very fundamental level, sharing emotions and memories with each other in a way most people could never achieve.

And now she was gone, torn out of his head and his heart, and her killer apparently didn’t give a flying fuck.

Hughie couldn’t hurt A-Train physically, could arguably have never touched him without some kind of divine intervention. But he did have his power, an ability that basically no-one except his Dad and Tony knew about. And there was fuck all A-Train could do to stop him.

He didn’t care?

He would.

Hughie would make sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

‘_You killed her_.’

Hughie sat against his headboard, staring at the A-Train action figures on his shelves, pushing the thought out. He had spent the afternoon writing out what he wanted to say, trying to find the perfect way to get A-Train to realise exactly what he had done. In the end, there was only one way to do this.

A-Train didn’t care because he didn’t know who Robin was, what she was like, why the world was an emptier place without her in it. That wasn’t something Hughie could do in one conversation. No. This would take time. This would hurt. There might be consequences to this that Hughie couldn’t forsee.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. Robin was worth it.

‘_You killed her, and you don’t even **care**. So I’m going to make you care._’

He couldn’t help sending along his helpless rage with the thought. His anger and frustration and _grief_.

Hughie wasn’t expecting a response, when he had finally decided to tell Robin about his power he had needed to describe exactly what she needed to do for Robin to learn how to communicate back. The thought hurt, a little, the memories of Robin’s face screwed up in concentration as she tried to figure out the trick to it, an ache he wasn’t sure would ever fade.

That’s why it took him by such surprise when he heard a distinct, angry,

‘_Who the fuck is this?!_’

Briefly thrown, Hughie blinked at his wall, stunned, before remembering that he was projecting his thoughts at a _superhero_. Of course A-Train would figure out what was going on and how to respond so quickly. He might have even dealt with something like this before.

It didn’t matter.

‘_I’m the boyfriend of the girl you ran through, you asshole._’

Hughie shot back, somehow even more infuriated that this guy knew how to respond,

‘_You killed her and you didn’t even stop, you haven’t apologised, you haven’t even spoken to her **parents**. She was innocent, a bystander, someone you fucking **murdered **and you don’t even have the decency to come speak to her loved ones?! What kind of superhero are you?!_’

‘_Look man, these things happen. That doesn’t give you the right to fucking think at me. Get over it and stop contacting me or I’m gonna have to come over there._’

If Hughie thought he was angry before, that was nothing on the incandescent rage he was experiencing now.

How dare he?! How could he even say - even think -

His rage was a heavy, weighty thing, and Hughie lashed out with it like a hammer blow, projecting it right into A-Trains mind, imagining him wincing away from it and feeling only vicious satisfaction at the thought. Belatedly he registered the pain spiking up his hands. Looking down he realised his nails were biting into his palms from how tightly his fists were clenched. For a brief moment he panicked, opening his hands, scared he would hurt Ro-

No. She was dead. He wasn’t holding her hands anymore. The paramedics had forced him to let go. Even if he could sometimes still feel them, that didn’t mean they were there. He couldn’t hurt her. She was gone. Dead. Nothing could hurt her ever again.

Slowly clenching his hands again Hughie looked back up at the wall, his eyes narrowing. He had the whole evening, and all the days of his life ahead of him, there was nothing A-Train could do to stop him, other than killing him.

Let him try.

‘_Get over it? **Get over it**? You think I can get over you smashing through her and not even apologising for it? Not even caring? Fuck that. You don’t care because you don’t know her. I’m going to change that. Come over here, I dare you. I’m not going to stop. I don’t care if you threaten me, hurt me, sue me or send me to jail. There’s nothing you can do to stop me short of killing me, and I’d like to see how the media would take that._’

There was a long moment of silence, then annoyance was being sent at him, and no little bit of anger as well.

‘_You think you can threaten me? I’m a goddamn superhero man. I’m one of the **Seven**. You can think at me all you want, it won’t change a goddamn thing, she’ll still be dead. Fuck you, and the horse you rode in on._’

Hughie was practically shaking with rage. He hadn’t known what to expect if he went through with this. He hadn’t expected A-Train to figure out how to talk back so quickly. But even then, for him to be talking to the loved one of one of his victims and dare say - to say all of that? To be so fucking full of himself? He had thought he might be wrong about A-Train not caring, that maybe there was something else going on.

But no.

Not only didn’t he care, he literally gave no fucks about what had happened, what he had done, that Robin was dead and never coming back because of him.

For a brief moment Hughie had an absolutely visceral urge to find something, anything; a gun, or a knife or a fucking axe and hunt down A-Train, to turn him into his own smear across the pavement.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out, letting the urge drain. It wouldn’t work. The guy was a superhero who could run faster than trains. He can’t hurt him physically. He doesn’t have the power or the resources to pull something like that off.

But he can hurt him in other ways. Remember the plan.

‘_I don’t care if you’re fucking Homelander, I can still make you regret it. So I hope you’re ready to find out exactly who you murdered, because by the time I’m done you’ll know her better than her parents you absolute asshole._’

‘_Don’t do this man. I don’t want to have to stop you, but I fucking will. I ain’t got time for this shit._’

Closing his eyes, remembering her blood splashing over him, Hughie let a grim smile cross his mouth.

‘_You’re about to make time. I’m not giving you a choice._’

He had already decided to do this chronologically, so even though it hurt like a stake in his heart, made him want to throw up because he was sharing these moments with her _killer_, Hughie remembered when he first met Robin.

He remembered the party Tony had dragged him to, remembered being introduced to her. He couldn’t remember exactly what they talked about anymore, and that stung like a papercut on his heart, but he remembered her smile, her laugh, how she would lean in conspirationaly while making remarks about the people dancing.

As he remembered each part he sent it on, trying not to colour the memories with his feelings now, wanting it to be as close to what actually happened as possible.

‘_You think you’re going to make me cry over her by sending me some memories of a party? Man you trippin._’

Dragged out of his memories Hughie grit his teeth.‘_No, I don’t. Give it time, you dick, we have all night._’

‘_Aw hell nah! You are not going to spend the whole night sending me shitty get-together clips. If I wanted to watch a chick flick I’d put one on. Just grow the fuck up and move on, jesus christ._’

‘_Oh if you think I’m going to stop after just one night, boy are you in for a surprise. Now put on your big boy pants and get ready for the Life and Love of Robin Ward, there’s two years worth of memories and we’re just getting started motherfucker._’

‘_Two **years**?! Shit man, don’t you fucking dare-_’

Ignoring him Hughie settled in, thinking back to the beginning, to that first tentative offer of his number, to getting a call from her the next day, and all the days following it. There was no way he was going to get through everything he knew about Robin in one day. He hoped A-Train was ready, because from here on out he was ignoring anything that shit-head sent to him.

A-Train was going to get to know Robin whether he liked it or not.

Hughie would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my angel, eringeosphere:😘  
To my lovely readers: ❤️❤️❤️


	4. Chapter 4

Hughie woke feeling groggy and still kind of exhausted. His face was stiff in a ‘recent crying for a while’ way.

Gradually the night came back to him, how he had spent literal hours sending memories of Robin. Meeting up for coffee, going out for ice-cream, telling each other about their lives and hopes and dreams. He had made it all the way up to the first date, the one that Robin had asked him out on, because he had been too scared to take them out of the comfortable friendship they had formed.

A-Train had interrupted a lot in the beginning, at first with threats of finding Hughie, of putting him in jail, of suing him, even of hurting him. Eventually he had given up on that. Instead he had started criticising the memories, everything from what an absolute loser Hughie was, to what Robin looked like, what she was wearing, how cliched everything about them getting together was.

Hughie had snapped back a few times, but eventually he got into a rhythm and even A-Train making fun of the person he had literally murdered didn’t quite reach him anymore. It had taken a while, but even A-Train had to run out of steam eventually. In the end he had gotten quiet and just listened.

Hughie assumes that A-Train was trying the ignore tactic, probably thinking that if Hughie got no response he would give up eventually. He didn’t seem to realise that that was what Hughie had initially planned for, that Hughie had been surprised he had figured out how to respond at all, let alone so quickly.

Instead it had allowed Hughie to remember in peace.

It had hurt, every second of it had hurt. It was a struggle not to get distracted by other memories of her, or his own grief. But Hughie was determined, and so he fought to stay on task, sending and sending his memories of her and the feelings associated with them. Trying so hard not to taint them with his grief.

He must have fallen asleep eventually. He was slumped over, still dressed from the day before. His back and neck hurt, but not as much as his heart, so he ignored it.

“Hey buddy, you alright?”

Jerking around Hughie stared at his Dad, caught off guard, before he registered what his Dad had said.

“...Yeah, I’m alright. Late night, that’s all.”

His Dad shuffled in the doorway, not really looking at him before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I um - I heard you last night. You were, um - you were crying. Do you want to, you know, talk about it?”

Annoyance flared and then died almost immediately. He loved his Dad, he really did, and Dad was trying, he just didn’t know how to deal with this. With Hughie like this.

_Well he should know how, since mom died too_, Hughie thought uncharitably, and then guilt reared its ugly head. That wasn’t fair, and he knew it. He was just glad he hadn’t projected it.

“I was just, you know, remembering her. It’s fine Dad. Thanks for, you know, offering. I appreciate it.”

Looking visibly relieved, his Dad backed up a couple steps, fidgeting with the hem of his jumper.

“Alright. I’m here though, if you ever - ever need to talk. My door’s always open and all that.”

Giving a strained smile to match his Dad’s he waved him off.

“I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll join you later, I’m gonna just, stay up here for a bit.”

“Okay, cool. Give me a shout if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Hughie stated, mostly to his Dads back as he made his way down the stairs.

Slumping back onto the bed Hughie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He needed to have a shower and brush his teeth, but he couldn’t find the energy to get up, or even move. Instead he stared up at the ceiling and thought about what he needed to do next. What he needed to send A-Train next.

Well. No time like the present. It’s not like he had anything else planned.

‘_Good morning A-Train. Ready for some more trips down memory lane?_’

For a few long moments there was silence, and then annoyance and anger were sent back to him.

‘_Jesus Christ. We’re still doing this? What the fuck do you even want man? I got like 3 hours of sleep because of you and your shitty home movie playlist._’

Feeling a vindictive kind of victory over that, Hughie let a tired smirk cross his face, turning his head to the side to stare at the A-Train figurines.

‘_We’re still doing this. Hell, we’ve barely made a dent. I’m ready for another day of delightful memories about an amazing woman. How about you?_’

‘_Fuck man. I’m sorry alright? Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry your girlfriends dead. There. Now leave me the fuck alone._’

All that victory and triumphant spite drained away instantly.

‘_No. No, that’s not what I want. That’s not nearly enough. A perfunctory obviously fake apology? No. I want you to feel it. Hell, at this point, I want you to feel at least a smidgen of regret. Jesus Christ A-Train, you’re a **superhero**! Why the fuck is getting you to be a decent human being so goddamned hard?! You save people regularly, you stop bad guys, you’re looked up to by millions. Why is it so goddamn hard to get you to act like an actual good guy?!_’

There was a long minute of silence after that. Hughie just dug the palms of his hands into his eyes before forcing himself upwards and finally off of the bed, making his way to the bathroom. He knew he just had to wait, there was no way A-Train could let that one go in favour of silence.

‘_You’re right, I am a superhero. Look man, I’m sorry, but this shit happens all the time, alright? You may not hear it in the news, but people die when we face bad guys. It’s part of the whole superhero deal. We have to learn to desensitise ourselves to it pretty damn fast, otherwise you can’t make it in this game. That’s just the way it is._’

Hughie found himself in the bathroom, braced against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He had dark shadows under his eyes, eyes which were still red from how much he’d been crying the last couple days. He had never seen that expression on his face before. He didn’t know if it was a product of grief or anger or disillusionment.

Pushing himself away he scoffed, dragging his shirt over his head in preparation for a shower.

‘_Yeah well, it shouldn’t be. I get you have to face crappy shit all the time man, but so do police officers, soldiers, fire fighters. That doesn’t give you the right to act the way you have. You are held to certain standards. You’re a fucking superhero. Act like one._’

Getting in the shower Hughie tipped his head back, letting the warm water soothe some of his aches, waiting. He didn’t know why he was just talking with A-Train, rather than going forward with the plan.

It didn’t matter. He had time. He could start sending memories again once he had gotten ready for the day. (He didn’t want to admit how tired he was. How the thought of purposefully remembering Robin right now was too hard.)

‘_What gives you the right to judge me man? I know I killed your girlfriend, but it was an accident. I said sorry. You want me to get to know her with some kinda hope that I will feel like shit afterwards? You think I haven’t felt like shit after killing people before? I had to get over it, now it’s your turn_.’

Tipping his head out of the spray of water Hughie considered that, thinking about why it felt so _wrong_.

‘_It doesn’t matter that you said sorry. Not when you don’t mean it. I get to judge you because you are a genuinely disgusting human being, if you even qualify as human at this point. It doesn’t matter that you used to feel like shit. This isn’t the kind of thing you’re supposed to get over, it’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to move on from. You’re supposed to realise that what you did was absolutely 100% wrong, and you are going to make every effort not to do it again. Otherwise what’s the point? You’re just going to run through someone else's mother, or father, or sibling, or god-forbid a child, and you once again won't give a shit. This was a **mistake**. You’re supposed to **learn **from those asshole, not ignore them. If you do it could happen again, and again, and again. That’s not right._’

‘That’s not fair’ Hughie thought, but didn’t send. He knew what the response to that would be.

Getting out of the shower, this time the silence felt more poignant than before. He wondered if he had gotten through to A-Train, or even started to get through to him. He doubted it. A-Train was apparently the kind of man who could make fun of someone he liquidised. It would take a lot more than Hughie talking at him to get him to change.

Pausing while towel drying his hair, Hughie considered that thought.

Did he want A-Train to change? More than that, did he actually think he could cause that change?

It seemed incredibly unlikely.

But then again, he did have the rest of his life, however short or long that may be. Maybe Hughie would end up in an ‘accident’ if he kept this up. At this point he would be sincerely unsurprised.

‘_Look, I get that it’s not right. Of course I’m gonna try not to do it again. But it aint that simple man._’

Heading into his room to change Hughie thought about that, and then, somehow only just clocking it now, he realised that he was talking to the man that killed Robin. He’s been wanting answers, all he has to do is _ask_. Why hadn’t that occurred to him yet?

‘_So explain it to me. What happened? Why isn’t it that simple?_’

The answer was immediate and sharp,

‘_I don’t answer to you. Fuck off._’

Jerking at the anger and the response, somehow not having expected it, Hughie finished shrugging on his jeans and t-shirt.

‘_You kind of do. You killed her. Why didn’t you see her? How come you couldn’t avoid her? I’ve seen your interviews, everything slows down for you when you run. Her taking one step off of that curb should have happened in slow motion for you, why couldn’t you dodge around her? Or just stop? It doesn’t make **sense**._’

Swiping his hands through his hair Hughie remembered that moment, how she just disappeared. Her hands had barely jerked in his. And then there was A-Train, stopped a couple of feet away. Why couldn’t he stop before he hit her? Why was that so hard?

‘_I told you. Fuck. **Off**._’

Getting angry again Hughie spun around, kicking his bed, hard. The immediate spike of pain was worth it. It even felt good for a moment, before the throbbing set in.

‘_No. If that’s how you’re gonna be, then I guess we should just get back to why I contacted you in the first place._’

‘_Fuck it. Do it. See if I care. I can multitask. Whatever you send me isn’t gonna make a damn difference._’

Hearing that for the truth it probably was and promptly ignoring it, Hughie sat down in his old squeaky desk chair, settling back and remembering where he had left off.

He wasn’t tired anymore. He was angry.

He relished that anger and let it carry him through the pain of remembering their first date.

They had gone to a nice restaurant, they had ordered wine. Hughie had ordered chicken, Robin had ordered lamb. They had spent over 3 hours talking and eating and drinking. They had split the bill. They had gone back to her place.

Slowly he started again, fleshing the memories out, trying to remember what exactly they had talked about, what he had noticed about her; and then he started sending them, ignoring the short, sharp, ‘_for fucks sake_’ he got in reply.

This was going to be a long hard slog. But hopefully it would be worth it.

(It had to be worth it.)


	5. Chapter 5

After that the true silent treatment started. It was several days before Hughie heard another thing from A-Train’s side. He hadn’t let it bother him, had instead used the opportunity to try and engrave the memories in his mind. He knew A-Train wouldn’t be able to stop himself from seeing what Hughie sent to him. He couldn’t even sleep through it. Hughie knew that from experience.  
  
He fell into a kind of routine after a while. Get up, get dressed, spend an hour or two writing down abridged versions of getting to know Robin, how he started to integrate her into his life. He used text messages and Whatsapp, Facebook and his photo gallery to put things in order. It even became a bit cathartic after awhile.  
  
Then he would start to send along his memories, including as much as he could remember about each moment. The only thing he didn’t send was memories of sex. He even started saying ‘fade to black’ when those moments came up, feeling a sharp spike of black humour as he said it, the only real acknowledgement Hughie would make that he was actually speaking to someone.  
  
Thankfully his Dad was mostly leaving him to his own devices, seeing Hughie being productive about something, even if he didn’t know what it was, was clearly allowing him to give Hughie the space he wanted.  
  
Hughie did have one or two moments where he wondered if he was doing the right thing, or if using Robin’s memories to try and hurt someone was disrespecting who she used to be. Then he would remember that she was always kind of vindictive and all about petty revenge. Or not so petty, if the case called for it.  
  
God he missed her.  
  
He also had a couple moments where he wondered if he would even be the one to win this standoff. If A-Train would actually be able to wait out the most detailed description of 2 years of their lives that Hughie could muster. It didn’t matter how much effort he put into recalling every little detail, in the end it wouldn’t take much longer than maybe a month or two before he ran out of all the little moments he could easily and not so easily recall of her.  
  
What then?  
  
...Give up?  
  
Hughie hoped not. He hoped he would be able to muster the will it would take to keep sending things. But instead it might peter out, slowly becoming him just sending the moments that she was missing from his and her parents lives. The holes where she should be, but wasn’t. In the end, he could only give so much, whereas A-Train could just keep ignoring him until Hughie eventually ran out of memories and moments to send.  
  
It worried him sometimes, that this all might be for nothing, that he was having no effect whatsoever on the superhero. It made him give long hard looks at what he was actually doing and why.  
  
In the end, all his introspection got him was the resolve to keep going. It might change nothing. But not trying to do something has a 100% failure rate, rather than the 90% it was probably at right now.  
  
And then he got to the Ice-Skating incident of Dec 2017, and for the first time in days A-Train commented on what Hughie was sending him.  
  
‘_Man, you really are a loser aren’t you, Hughie? What kind of middle-class white boy don’t know how to skate?_’  
  
Hughie froze, taken completely by surprise that A-Train had said anything to him after so long with silence as his only response. And then it registered. A-Train had said his name. He knew his **name**.  
  
The panic and anxiety were a surprise, sparking through him like lightning, though he didn’t know why. Of course A-Train knew his name by now. It would have been ridiculously easy for him to find out. He was a superhero, he could check the paramedics reports, the incident reports, speak to the police officers or EMT’s. Have an intern do a Google search. The options were limitless.  
  
That didn’t change the fact that Hughie had kind of deliberately tried to keep his anonymity, first by not introducing himself (though that had been more spur of the moment), but later he also deliberately blanked out any moments Robin had said his name when he projected memories to A-Train.  
  
He didn’t know why he was so panicked and, yes, scared. The fear rising in him like the monster under his bed he’d been trying to convince himself wasn’t real. He had been taunting A-Train about tracking him down since the beginning. He knew it wouldn’t be hard for the guy, not with his abilities and resources. Hell, some random stranger on the street with a phone and access to the internet could have looked him up, considering the media attention around the whole thing.  
  
He sometimes even saw a couple reporters hanging out outside their property line. It didn’t really matter, as Hughie hadn’t and didn’t plan to leave the house until work started up again, but it also meant his name was out there. Then again, he had been keeping up with the news, and since he refused to come outside and give interviews he had only been mentioned by name once so far.  
  
Not that it really mattered now. A-Train knew who he was. Had probably known for a while.  
  
‘_You okay there, Hughie? You’ve gone all quiet. That aint like you._’  
  
Hughie could hear the amusement in the other man's voice and it served as enough of a shock to jumpstart him out of his ‘blue-screen’ mode.  
  
‘_I’m fine, just shocked you cared enough to look me up._’  
  
‘_For a given value of ‘looking you up’. We were doing another strat meeting for how to handle the publicity yesterday, your name came up. I wouldn’t feel too special homeboy, I had to exert literally zero effort to find that out._’  
  
Feeling his cheeks redden at that Hughie pushed it aside. It didn’t really matter in the end.  
  
‘_Kind of surprised I haven’t found a horses head in my bed or ‘tripped’ down the stairs yet, to be completely honest. Hell I’ve been kind of wondering if I would feel the breeze before you hit me. I’m thinking probably not. I figure one second I’ll be standing and the next so much roadkill. Or maybe some kind of ‘accident’ will happen. I’m not sure. Can I get a hint?_’  
  
The silence this time was strained, though that may have been Hughie’s anxiety talking. He felt jittery and kind of like he needed to move. Maybe to another country. He didn’t know why he was so worried. If he did die, it wouldn’t actually matter at all in the grand scheme of things. Except to his Dad and maybe Tony.  
  
‘_Jesus Christ dude. You really think I’m gonna whack you because you’re being an annoying ass piece of shit? I _**_am_**_ actually a superhero. I don’t just straight up kill people who tick me off._’  
  
‘_You should probably think about the fact that that genuinely surprises me._’  
Hughie replied, refusing to acknowledge the relief that answer had given him.  
  
‘_Whatever man. So what happens next. With all this build up you can’t leave me in suspense now._’  
  
Brows raising in surprise Hughie stared at the coffee machine, wondering if he should take this as a good sign or if A-Train was just looking for a subject change.  
  
‘_Well, okay then._’  
Hughie finally responded, thinking back to the incident. It hadn’t been pretty, Robin had been teaching him how to ice-skate, holding his hand and propping him up when he eventually took his first tentative steps away from the wall. Eventually they’d managed to get a bit of pace going, before Hughie had stumbled a bit, right into the path of someone who had been regularly lapping them. They’d all gone down pretty hard. The guy had been such an asshole about it, cursing and yelling at them. At least until Robin had had enough and gotten in the guys face. He had backed down surprisingly fast for such a big dude. Hughie had been mortified, but kind of amazed by Robin as she tore the guy a new one. He’d always referred to the whole thing as the Great Ice-Skating Incident of 2017, because it always made Robin flush and playfully glare at him, muttering darkly under her breath.  
  
Finishing making his coffee, for the first time Hughie caught himself slightly smiling at a memory about Robin. Of course the smile faded as soon as he noticed it, but it was there. Not knowing how to take that Hughie made his way to the back porch, checking out the windows for any reporters before deeming it safe enough to settle on a chair on the porch, looking out at the sunlit backyard.  
  
‘_You know, that’s kind of what it was like._’  
  
Eyebrows furrowing, Hughie thought back but couldn’t figure out where A-Train was going with this. Until he did.  
  
‘_What do you mean?_’  
It wasn’t until his fingers cramped that he realised he was gripping the coffee mug so tight that all his fingers had gone white.  
  
‘_Hitting your girl. We don’t really spread this information, and if I find out you told anyone I actually will hunt you down, but just because everything slows down from my perspective doesn’t mean I can change course easily. I mean, that isn’t the whole of it, there was other stuff going on too, but that was a big factor. I was running straight, looking ahead for cars and shit, by the time I realised your girl had stepped into my path I couldn’t spin out of the way or stop in time._’  
  
Hughie stared ahead, only feeling the lump in his throat when he tried to swallow. So that was it, huh? Speedsters weren’t as in control as they liked the public to believe. It made sense if Hughie really thought about it. That kind of inertia, that kind of speed; even with a perspective shift, reacting on a dime wouldn’t be easy.  
  
‘_Okay. Thank you._’ He managed to get out.  
  
‘_Thank you?_’ A-Train sounded confused, and kind of wary.  
  
‘_Thank you for explaining it to me. That makes sense._’  
Hughie replied, feeling something settle a little bit inside him. It didn’t make what happened okay, in no sense of the word was it actually okay, but ultimately it was an accident. Accidents happen, they’re absolutely shitty, but they happen.  
  
‘_That’s it? I was expecting a little more - I dunno man - blame? Anger? Shitty comments?_’  
A-Train still sounded kind of confused, and a bit angry, and definitely suspicious.  
  
It was enough to drag Hughie out of his thoughts, reaching up to rub at his eyes when he felt the tears gathering. He hadn’t really cried the last couple of days. He didn’t know why this was what started it again.  
  
‘_Accidents happen A-Train, I get that. I knew it was an accident, I just didn’t understand how it happened. Why you couldn’t react in time. I never thought you deliberately killed her, or that there was some conspiracy behind all this. I just - I just wanted to understand._’  
  
There was another long silence, so Hughie took the time to actually sip his coffee, letting the warmth soothe him and pushing back the urge to cry. He didn’t want to cry right now, he had just been smiling, he wanted to do that again. Feel that again.  
  
‘_That’s not all you wanted. I seem to recall something about making me feel shitty and needing an apology._’  
There was a tentative humour to the superhero’s words, like he wasn’t sure he was actually in the clear, or that he could actually joke about this. Hughie let the humour pull his lips up into a reluctant grin. Yeah he could take issue with those comments, but fuck it, not everything needed to be about anger and petty vengeance.  
  
‘_Yeah well, that’s because I realised you’re a shitty person who needs reminding about how to be an actual decent human being._’  
Hughie replied, letting his own humour shine through.  
  
There was a snort and actual reluctant amusement projected back at him. Then, for the first time, A-Train sent him an image of a conference room, chairs filled by the Seven, Homelander making some kind of remark about ‘points’. It was slightly disjointed, blurry. Cleary A-Train wasn’t very good at sending imagery himself, which wasn’t that surprising, it took a lot of practice for someone who wasn’t a Projector to do it. A feeling came along with it, like someone settling in for the long haul.  
  
‘_Well go on then. I figure we’re about three months in right? I’m bored and I’ve got another two hours in this meeting, might as well enjoy my own tragic chick-flick at the same time._’  
  
Rolling his eyes and refusing to rise to the bait, Hughie leant back as well, having one of those quiet realisations that he was actually talking with A-Train, one of the Seven, and A-Train was actually listening.  
  
Maybe Hughie was actually getting somewhere.


	6. A-Train

A-Train sat in the meeting room, shifting his attention between his PR rep, David, and what was going on in his head.  
  
In the last two weeks he’s had to become a bit of a master at splitting his attention, though there had definitely been a couple (okay fine, more than a couple) hiccups along the way. It wasn’t like he had a choice though, it was either learn or get caught.  
  
He couldn’t really afford to get found out.  
  
It was the only reason he had allowed this whole mess to go on for as long as it had. Ever since that little shit-head started sending him memories at every goddamn hour of the day and night, A-Train had been trying to think of what he could do to get the motherfucker to stop.  
  
In any other situation his options would have been endless. He could have gone to Vought, to the police, sued the bastard, put out a restraining order or even got the asshole thrown in jail.  
  
Hell, he could have tracked him down himself and put the fear of A-Train into the douche.  
  
But he couldn’t afford to do that this time, for literally one reason.  
  
He had been on V.  
  
He had been on Compound V, and he had hit someone as he was running to Nathan. The news had just come out with Shockwave issuing his challenge, and A-Train hasn’t been in the business this long without knowing which way the wind was blowing.  
  
He had some leeway, but he wasn’t stupid. The Seven didn’t normally respond to challenges like this, otherwise they would be getting them every hour of the day from those up-and-coming jackasses.  
  
But A-Trains’ points had been on a slow decline for the last year or two. This was just the sort of thing Vought would jump on to either get the rankings back up, or as the excuse they needed to get some new blood on the team.  
  
He had panicked. He was high. He had run.  
  
He normally never left PopClaw’s apartment when high. Not worth the risk in any way, shape or form. But he had seen the news, and he had just - gone. Even now, two weeks later, and A-Train could feel his stress rising just at the thought.  
  
The urge to hit up was unbearable.  
  
He can’t, he can’t. Never mind that on V he had moved faster than he had in a long while, that the world had sped by at a pace he hadn’t experienced in far too long. That he had hit someone. Hit her. Robin. He _can’t _do that again.  
  
Vought had covered for him, made it seem like he was going to stop a robbery or something, but they were all watching him closely now.  
  
He couldn’t touch that shit again, at least until the attention faded. (He couldn’t hit someone again. Fuck. What was that asshole doing to him?)  
  
If Stillwell, or worse, _Homelander_, found out he was doing V, that was it. Do not pass Go, do not get 200 dollars.  
  
Just straight up fucked.  
  
So he's got no choice, right? He's had to grin and bear it. He'd tried to scare Hughie off, had been as cutting and ruthless as he had ever been. Said things that even then kind of left a sour taste in his mouth. But he couldn’t deal with this in person, couldn’t afford to.  
  
If Vought found out what Hughie was doing, not only would they shut the little shit up, they would probably pay more than a passing attention to the whole incident. From the moment it happened, his PR and Management team had been in crisis mode, figuring out the spin of it.  
  
If it turned out A-Train was getting contacted by the boyfriend, had been for two weeks now, they would do more than spin it. They would look into it.  
  
A-Train can’t have that shit happen.  
  
He’s worked too hard, fought and bled to be here, to be part of the Seven. He had fundamentally changed as a person to have his seat at the table. And now, not only does he have Shockwave gunning for his spot on the team, he also has a grieving idiot making a nuisance of himself.  
  
The worst part?  
  
A-Train couldn’t help but to start liking the bastard.  
  
It wasn’t even the sheer gall the fucker showed in doing this to him, one of the _Seven_.  
  
It was something he suspected Hughie hadn’t even realised, hadn’t even thought of when he started this crusade. He set out to make A-Train get to know Robin, but the idiot didn’t seem to realise how much of himself he had revealed as well.  
  
All those meet-cute sappy as shit dates he had projected straight into A-Trains head? Where Hughie and Robin got to know each other? Well now A-Train got to know both of them for the price of one.  
  
And that wasn’t even getting started on the _emotions_. Jesus Christ. Hughie was trying, A-Train could tell, he was trying to make sure his own emotions weren't colouring the memories. That didn’t mean it fucking _worked_. Every single memory was flavoured with love and grief, care and affection. Devastation.  
  
There was no way anyone could see all that, feel all that, and not get to know someone. Not get to like them, at least a bit. It’s an intimate snapshot straight into someone’s life, the highs and lows, the failures and successes.  
  
Hughie had set out to make A-Train care about Robin. Well he had fucking succeeded, the douchebag. And now A-Train kind of cared about what happened to him too.  
  
He fought it, tried to keep his distance.  
  
Fat lot of good that did.  
  
And then the ice-skating story happened and A-Train couldn’t help himself. Had hardly thought about what he was sending before it was gone. The reason it had happened.  
  
Or, well. One of the reasons.  
  
It didn’t matter that he had shut that conversation down stone-cold the first time it came up. Or that he had been so carefully not responding, hoping Hughie would wear himself out. He saw that situation go down, and couldn’t help but relate to the asshole who hit Hughie. Knew how hard it could be to react quickly when going fast, and it just came spilling out.  
  
As soon as he realized what he had done he had braced himself.  
  
He didn’t owe the jackass anything, but it didn’t change the fact he had run through his girlfriend. He knew what was coming; he should have paid more attention, he should have been quicker, faster. He should have done _something_, then Robin wouldn’t be dead.  
  
Except it never happened.  
  
Hughie, that goody-two-shoes jackass, just - just _thanked him_.  
  
Who does that?  
  
He could feel the grief, the sadness, the emptiness that Hughie was feeling when he responded. Yet that was it. No yelling, no accusations, just thanks for finally explaining.  
  
It was the first time in recent memory that A-Train hadn’t gotten raked over the coals for a mistake. Even PopClaw was starting to get more and more pushy about going public. She was a no-nonsense woman. If he did something wrong, she expected him to man up and get his shit together.  
  
He had never had someone just _understand _and move on.  
  
Like it was that simple.  
  
The worst part?  
  
He deserved it. Hughie should have yelled, he should have spat insults, given A-Train the tongue lashing of his goddamn life.  
  
He was fucking high and someone died because of it. Someone who had a life, had parents and a boyfriend. Was going to school, trying to make something of herself.  
  
And A-Train ran through her.  
  
He tried not to think of it, tried to slot it in with the bad guys he’s taken down, the innocents that have gotten caught in the crossfire.  
  
Except he couldn’t do that anymore.  
  
They hadn’t gotten to that moment yet, where Robin died. But it was coming, and A-Train was dreading it, dreading the moment he got to see her die, feel her die, just like Hughie did.  
  
He already had the memory from his own perspective. He knew what it was like to hit her. How her body had bent and broken open around him. Like a water-balloon getting hit by a car, she had burst open into so much blood and gore. He had even swallowed one of her goddamn molars.  
  
He remembered laughing about it the next evening at the club. Like it was a goddamn joke.  
  
It sure as shit wasn’t funny now.  
  
Hughie may not have realised it, but he had already succeeded.  
  
A-Train may joke about it, but he knew where this was headed. How it ended.  
  
It made him feel fucking sick.


	7. Hughie

Things had changed with A-Train recently.

Hughie wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, although he had his suspicions, but A-Train engaged with him a lot more.

Not even in a negative way. Well, not too negative anyways. A-Train couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to digging into sore points, but it seemed far less deliberate then it had been in the beginning, so most of the time Hughie would let it go, refusing to rise to the bait.

Hughie kept to the routine he had set for the most part, getting up, writing down what he wanted to share and then sending it over to A-Train. That was usually as far as the routine went before A-Train would derail it, asking for more details, or referring back to things he had already seen. Of course a lot of it was also just A-Train laughing at Hughie being a huge dork, and Robin being a badass who needed to save him from himself and/or others all the time.

Hughie didn’t mind.

Honestly the change over the past couple of days when it came to A-Train had been kind of quietly blowing his mind a little (or a lot, yeah, a lot works too). It seemed like now that A-Train had made the decision to engage, rather than trying to scare Hughie off or silently wait him out, he was all in.

It made remembering Robin and all she had been a lot easier. He felt safer sending his memories of her over to the superhero, feeling a lot more confident that they would be received well, rather than mocked and ignored.

Ultimately, it felt less like he was playing a twisted game of Battleship, launching strikes out blindly in the hopes that one managed to hit; and more like he was actually sharing her, that even though Robin was dead now, someone else out there was getting to know her.

It eased something in Hughie that he hadn’t really realised was there. A feeling like something was lodged in his torso, slowly creeping up his throat, itching to get out. The more he shared her, the more that feeling subsided, until Hughie found himself smiling occasionally at what he was remembering. He even laughed once! Ok, it was more like an amused puff of air, but it still counts!

Of course that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still occasionally blindsided by the loss of her. It was happening less frequently, but it still happened, moments where he tripped over his tenses, or spotted a photo of her he had forgotten was on his bookshelf, or thought he saw her out of the corner of his eye and only realised that she wasn’t there after he had already turned to her.

One such moment happened about four days after the Ice-Skating Incident (No. 2). Hughie had been sitting in his room, doodling on a notepad while sharing the first time Robin had succeeded in projecting back to him. It had been amazing, hearing her in his mind, the fierce rush of victory she had felt, the little wiggle she couldn’t help after she managed it again. She had just been sending ‘Testing 1,2,3’ over and over again, but it was one of the best things he had ever heard.

She had reveled in it. It was probably the first time he had really realised he loved her.

So it was a bit jarring to hear his Dad call, “Hughie! Jackie’s on the phone, she wants to speak to you.”

Jackie. Robin's mom. They hadn’t talked in over a week.

He knew what this call was about.

‘_Hughie? What happened man? You disappeared._’

‘_Yeah, I have to take a call. Give me a - a sec._’ Hughie replied, feeling dazed, the whiplash of going from such a good memory to reality so suddenly hitting him hard.

There was silence and then a hesitant, ‘_Sure man, take your time._’ Clearly he hadn’t managed to mask the sudden grief, if A-Train was being cautious.

‘_Thanks._’

Standing on shaky legs, Hughie made his way downstairs and took the phone from his Dad, feeling like he was reaching out to grab a viper. Walking to the kitchen to give himself a few more moments, he leant against one of the cabinets before slowly bringing it to his ear, taking two deep breaths before speaking.

“Hi Jackie, what can I do for you?”

The woman on the other end sounded a bit choked up herself, but he could hear the attempt at a smile in her voice,

“Hi Hughie, is this a good time?”

“Yeah, I’m not really - really doing anything. Is this about…”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish, suddenly this was all too real.

“Yes, we’ve um - we’ve finally decided on a date. Sorry for the delay, there were, um, complicat-ions.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, she was definitely crying now, Hughie could hear the tears. He was a bit surprised to realise he was as well. Bringing a hand up to wipe at his face he stared at his wet fingertips, feeling detached and too much all at once.

“Okay. Okay. That’s - that’s good. When, um, when is it?”

He was surprised at the sound of his own voice, rough and watery, distant. Like he was talking from a long, long way away.

“Two weeks from now. On the Saturday. We needed to - to give some people time to get here. Oh Hughie, honey, I’m sorry, I have to - to go. I’ll see you then, alright?”

Two weeks.

Two weeks before Robin would be in the ground. The last thing they could do for her, before it was all over.

“Alright. Two weeks. Thanks for - for letting me know. I’ll be there.”

“I know you will. Bye Hughie.”

“Bye.”

There was a ringing in his ears, his lips and fingertips felt numb. He didn’t know why this had caught him so off guard. He had known it was coming.

He had known.

‘_Hughie? Hughie? Are you alright?!_’

It was more the fact that his Dad was actually projecting at him than what he had said that managed to catch Hughie’s attention, dragging it away from his spinning thoughts.

Slowly he realised that he had crumpled, was sitting on his knees, his forehead leant against a kitchen cabinet, staring at the phone resting in his hand on his lap. He felt light headed, and like he was going to be sick. His vision kept fuzzing in and out. His Dad was on his knees beside him, his hands hovering over Hughie, clearly unsure about what to do.

He was going to throw up.

‘_Hughie, what’s going on man? You alright? It feels like you’re under attack, Jesus._’

A-Train's voice was a jolt to his system. Dazedly he wondered what A-Train meant. How had he known something was going on? That’s when he realised, with no little sense of shame, that he had been projecting his feelings. Had been for a while. It was so automatic after the last, jesus, two weeks, he hadn’t even noticed. A-Train felt all of that, maybe even from the beginning. Fuck.

Shutting off the projection left him feeling stranded, on shaky ground. Christ. When had he started using A-Train as an emotional crutch?

‘_Where’d you go? Jesus, should I - are you okay?_’

Ironically, it was the dismay and shame over both that realisation and A-Train's worry that helped him stabilise his breathing. He still felt a bit lightheaded, but the distraction worked and the hyperventilating and fuzzy vision were leveling out.

‘_Gimme a - gimme a sec._’

He sent back, receiving silence and then a feeling of reassurance, like a hand clasping his shoulder. Using the feeling to steady himself Hughie leant back from the cupboard, and looked at his Dad, who kind of looked like he was having a mini panic-attack of his own.

“Are you alright, son? What do you need? A glass of water? I’ll get you a glass of water.”

It wasn’t until he saw his Dad standing up that the words really registered, still feeling a bit dazed and distant.

“It’s alright Dad. I’m alright.” At his Dad's dubious look Hughie amended that to, “I’ll be alright. A glass of water would be great.”

Looking relieved his Dad offered him a hand up, pulling him to his feet, before turning to get him some water. Leaning against the counter Hughie just rested for a moment, still feeling a bit shaky but also gradually more present, less like he was going to fall to pieces at the slightest thing.

“Here you go. It’s just tap, I can get you some - some bottled water if you want that instead?”

The shame was growing, his poor Dad looked seconds away from wringing his hands together, clearly at a bit of a loss about what to do. Taking a sip from the glass Hughie actually found it helped, soothing his throat and settling his stomach, before he knew it the glass was finished and he was handing it back.

“Thanks Dad. No worries, I think I just need a nap. I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“Of course, of course. Go have your nap son, I’ll wake you up for dinner later.”

Smiling at his Dad, Hughie felt warm affection settle over him like a blanket at the quiet knowledge that his Dad loved him. Dad found it hard to show sometimes, or maybe he just showed it in a way that Hughie had never understood, but it was moments like these that made Hughie remember how much he loved him.

“Thanks Dad, I appreciate it. Love you.” He couldn’t help adding the last bit as he turned away, but not fast enough to miss the way his Dad lit up, relief and affection lighting his features as he watched Hughie start to make his way upstairs.

Hughie didn't send anything to A-Train until he was in bed, wrestling with what he should say about - all of that.

‘_I’m back. Sorry about… that. I didn’t mean to project all of that onto you_.’

‘_It’s aight. You’re going through some stuff, man. I know that. It’s how all this shit started in the first place._’ A-Train sounded a bit subdued, but Hughie could tell he meant it.

Hughie thought about that. About what had happened, what was still happening. It _was _alright. Hughie was going through a loss, there were going to be bumps in the road.

‘_Thanks, I appreciate it. Your understanding I mean. I didn’t realise I was projecting all that onto you. I’ll try to make sure I don’t do it again._’

Hughie meant it too. Yes he had started all this with the intention of forcing A-Train to feel what he was feeling, to go through what he was going through, to regret what he had done.

But things had changed, not completely, because Hughie still wanted A-Train to know Robin, but it wasn’t so much about forcing him to regret her death, and more because Robin was amazing, and she deserved to have a superhero know that, to know her, even after she was gone.

‘_It’s fine Hughie, accidents happen._’

There was a note of dark humour in A-Trains voice that Hughie felt spark in himself at the superhero’s words.

‘_Yeah, they do. I’ll make sure I don’t do it again._’

There was an acknowledgement there, one they didn’t voice, but Hughie could feel it anyway.

‘_...So what happened? I’m guessing the call didn’t go well?_’

A-Train was understably hesitant when bringing it up, but it was also so like him to blunder through anyway that Hughie couldn’t help smiling a little. At least until he actually remembered what the call was about, then he found himself curling in on his side, pulling his blanket over his head and hugging a pillow. It didn’t matter, no one could see him, and he needed to hug something right now.

‘_...They’ve finally settled on a date for Robin’s funeral._’

‘_Aw shit man. I’m sorry. When is it?_’

A-Train sounded a bit out of his depth, but it struck Hughie that he was really trying. It was such a drastic turnaround from the callous celebrity he first spoke with that he actually had to take a couple moments to answer, a glow of something warm slowly growing in his chest.

‘_Two weeks from now, on the Saturday._’

‘_You’re kidding me._’

The response was flat and hard, it completely threw Hughie, causing him to stutter out a,

‘_Wha-what?_’

‘_No, not you. Sorry. It’s just, that’s when my PR team says I’ll be doing the press conference about this whole thing._’

A-Train actually sounded angry, and kind of disgusted.

‘_There’s no way they don’t know that’s when the funeral is. They definitely did this on purpose. Shit, fucking politics man!_’

Furrowing his brow Hughie hugged the pillow tighter, trying to think that one through and not getting it.

‘_I don’t get it, why would they book it for the same day?_’

‘_It’s PR man. If they have the press conference then, then all the reporters will be at the press conference, rather than getting footage of the grieving family of my - of my victim. It’s politics. They pull this shit all the time, I don’t know why I’m surprised._’

Hughie took that in, gnawing on his lip. Eventually he uncurled a bit, pulling his blanket back down so he could stare at the ceiling.

‘_Maybe that’s not so bad._’

‘_What?_’

There was surprise there, and a fair bit of disbelief as well. Hughie was kind of surprised at how much this was affecting A-Train, that he was taking it so personally.

‘_I mean, I don’t think I want reporters there, at Robin’s - at her funeral. She deserves better than that._’

There was a long silence after that, long enough that Hughie was considering prodding A-Train, but he did reply eventually.

‘_Yeah, I get that. Still, I can speak to my people about changing it, if you want. Not sure I like the fact they’re using me to draw attention away from you guys. People should - they should know your girl will be missed._’

The glow was back, and it was growing.

‘_Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. But I think it’s good. I’ll let you know if I change my mind._’

‘_You do that._’

The answer was gruff, A-Train was clearly ready to move on, which he confirmed when he asked,

‘_So what happens next? Robin figured out how to project to you, now you gotta deal with having her in your head all the time. This is going to be great. Don’t skimp on the details._’

It was the first time A-Train had used Robin’s name. Ever.

Yeah, Hughie figured he was making a difference. A pretty big one.

He could only hope it was worth it, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to all my kind reviewers, you all are why I am doing this! Your happiness, and ideas, and faith is what allows me to keep writing! I'm glad you all are enjoying this as much as I am enjoying writing it XD <3 <3 <3


	8. Chapter 8

Going back to work after all that had happened over the last two weeks was both weird and a relief.  
  
Hughie hadn’t realised exactly how listless he felt, wandering around the house, trying to find things to do but not having the energy to really do it. Every corner reminded him of Robin in some way. He hadn’t really realised exactly how much it was affecting him until he finally left.  
  
It was surprising how much talking with A-Train had helped.  
  
It had given him something to do. Something to focus on. Yet it was difficult in it’s own right, forcing himself to think of Robin everyday, every hour, when the loss of her was so fresh. It had hurt, but eventually the pain became easier, changed and morphed until it was the ache of overworked muscles rather than cutting agony.  
  
Not that he had stopped sending A-Train his memories, even while working. He had never used his projection as much as he had in the last two weeks, even when talking with Robin; they had still needed some space between them, some alone time. With A-Train, Hughie hadn’t allowed that. Had been in contact for most of everyday.  
  
An unexpected result was how easy he found projection now. He could be doing multiple things, like stocking shelves, talking to a customer, discussing the funeral date with Gary, anything really; and still be keeping a conversation going on in his head at the same time.  
  
There was something satisfying about that.  
  
Robin had always loved his power. Had loved exploring exactly what he could do with it, whether that be sending memories, emotions, or just talking with each other whenever they wanted to. She was the one who had helped him find out exactly how much he could do. He had always thought all he could do was send thoughts. She taught him exactly how wrong he was, how the limits to his power went far beyond what he had thought they were.  
  
By the end, she had been almost as proficient at sending as Hughie was, which was fairly impressive. Hughie knew how hard it was for people who didn’t have his power. It took more concentration, more effort. But just like with any natural ability, even if you weren’t naturally gifted towards it, you could still learn, still get better. A-Train was proof of that. He had gotten the hang of it at a frankly terrifying speed, and by now he seemed to be almost as good as Hughie at multitasking.  
  
Like right now, for example. A-Train had been sent out to deal with a bank robbery turned hostage negotiation. This was the third time this had happened over the last two weeks. Previously A-Train had told him to shut up for an hour or so while he dealt with it, so as not to distract him while he was trying to save people. Of course Hughie had shut up. He had even tried watching what was happening on the news. He hadn’t mentioned it to A-Train, but he had had panic attacks each time.  
  
He might have known intellectually that he was talking to the superhero in his head, but that apparently didn’t matter jack squat when he actually saw the man on TV.  
  
There had been a similar problem when he had gone out for lunch the previous day. He hadn’t realised before exactly how much A-Train merch there was out there until he had stopped by the bodega to pick up a sandwich. That had been embarrassing.  
  
Anyway. This time was different for some reason. When A-Train had contacted him and let him know that he had superhero businesses, he expected to be told to shut up for a while. That didn't happen, instead A-Train had made a joke about response times and kept on chatting, with only a small aside about not sending memories right now.  
  
Apparently memories would be distracting but chatting wasn’t this time? Hughie had no clue how to take that. On the one hand he wanted to tell A-Train to shut up and focus on saving the poor hostages. On the other A-Train had called this ‘amateur hour’ and sounded amused when he checked out the bank the bad guys were holed up in.  
  
It was a kind of stark reminder that Hughie talked with an actual honest to God superhero, one of the _Seven_, on the regular.  
  
But still.  
  
_Innocent people_.  
  
_‘Look man, are you sure you don’t need to concentrate right now? I promise I won’t be offended if you need me to shut up for an hour while you get your superhero on._’ Hughie said, again. Seriously. Innocent _goddamn _people.  
  
‘_Get my superhero on? That’s really how you wanna phrase that? And yeah man, I promise. These guys haven’t even locked the fuckin back door. Aaaand - yup. No guard. For fucks sake. Seriously. If I managed to fuck this up, Homelander would fuck _**_me _**_up._’ A-Train felt both disgusted and amused by this entire scenario.  
  
Hughie, on the other hand, was slightly thrown by that last comment. It wasn’t the first time A-Train had said something like that, but it was the first time he had been so blunt about it.  
  
_‘Homelander? What do you mean? Would he be angry? Surely he wouldn’t actually hurt you?_’ Hughie didn’t know what prompted him to say the last part. It was just a feeling he got, based on what A-Train had said previously, and how utterly truthful he felt this time. Actually, that was it. He hadn’t been joking. That was the problem. That last comment hadn’t felt like a joke.  
  
There was a long moment of silence, and when A-Train did eventually respond, it was with a dose of wariness and caution that Hughie realised he hadn’t actually felt from him in a long time.  
  
‘_Look man, forget I said that, okay? Homelander isn’t someone you gossip about. Let’s leave it at that._’ A-Train apparently couldn’t help projecting some of his resignation through as he sent that.  
  
Which, yeah, fair. Hughie was curious now. There’s no way A-Train didn’t know him well enough to know he wouldn’t drop it as easily as that.  
  
‘_Yeah, no. You’ve got my attention now. I can’t believe I haven’t asked this before, but what is he actually like?_’ Hughie kind of wanted to fanboy, but on the other hand he was actually a bit wary himself. Thinking back on those throwaway comments A-Train had said before, and Hughie’s own experience with A-Train in the beginning, he’s been half wondering if perhaps Homelander wasn’t the superhero everyone actually thought he was.  
  
‘_Goddamnit Hughie, I’m serious. Homelander is not someone to fuck around with okay? He’s dangerous._’ And then, as if it had just occurred to A-Train that this was something that could conceivably happen, he continued, his tone urgent, ‘_Whatever you do Hughie, do not catch his attention. Never project to him like you did to me okay? He is fucking dangerous. The only way to be safe is to be anonymous. If he doesn’t know you exist, he doesn’t care. If you catch his attention, then you’re never gonna be able to get rid of it. And you seriously don’t want that to fuckin happen. You hear me?_’  
  
Hughie realised he had frozen where he was counting stock in the backroom, his heart racing. A-Train was absolutely deadly serious. Hughie hadn’t expected this. He had kind of thought A-Train was going to tell him Homelander was like him, a bit of a prick, occasionally callous, desensitised to his job. Not dangerous. Definitely not the level of dangerous that required this level of warning.  
  
‘_He’s really that bad?_’ Hughie eventually responded, his voice somehow sounding small even in his own mind.  
  
_‘He’s worse man. Fuck, I really shouldn’t be saying this, but you had to know. Don’t catch his attention Hughie. Never._’ A-Train sounded tired, and defeated, and horribly _resigned_, and it abruptly reminded Hughie that A-Train worked with Homelander. Saw him everyday. Was _scared _of him.  
  
‘_Are you okay A-Train? He doesn’t hurt you, does he?_’ Hughie didn’t know what he would do if Homelander did. There wasn’t anything he could do. If all he could do to get revenge on A-Train, who while being one of the Seven, didn’t actually make the Top Three, then there was fuck all he could do against Homelander. But still. He had to know.  
  
There was a feeling like a sigh, then A-Train continued, some of his standard humour back in his voice. ‘_Nah man. He’s not like, abusive, or something. It’s just...I don’t know how to explain it. There’s a threat of it. Of violence. Constantly. He’s so fake, so goddamn superficial all the time. And when he’s angry, that’s the only time you really see who he is. And the real him? He’s goddamn _**_terrifying_**_. Please Hughie. Promise me you’ll never contact him._’  
  
What could Hughie do in the face of that except agree?  
  
‘_I promise._’  
  
A-Train sent across another sigh, this one tinged with relief, like all his muscles had been tense and only now were they unclenching. ‘_Good man. That’s good. Now I think you were right, I need to concentrate. I’ll ping you when I’m done._’  
  
Hughie didn’t need to know A-Train as well as he did now to know that A-Train was lying. He just wanted this conversation to end.  
  
That was fine. Hughie had a lot to think about, some time to himself wouldn’t go amiss.  
  
‘_Yeah, sure. Talk to you later._’ Hughie responded, getting only a dismissive acknowledgement in reply.  
  
Hughie forced himself to get back to unpacking boxes, his mind somehow blank and racing at the same time.  
  
Was Homelander really that bad? Why was he even a superhero if…. Hughie pursed his lips. Well that was obvious wasn’t it? The fame, the money, the adoring masses. Hell, Homelander absolutely wouldn’t be the first supe to go down the path of the superhero for those reasons. It was actually depressingly common.  
  
Still Homelander wasn’t just _a_ superhero. He wasn’t even just one of the Seven. He was _the _superhero. The person every single supe wanted to be. The person every normal person admired, and wanted to be there if something went horribly wrong.  
  
To learn...all of that. It was...shocking. Horrifying. Hughie could feel his understanding of the world, already tilted on its axis after Robin’s death, tip a little bit further.  
  
He thought he had already seen the worst of what the superhero world had to offer. To learn that that might not be the case. That it could get worse. It was disgusting and alarming in equal measure.  
  
But most of all?  
  
Most of all, it was disappointing.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my darling Eringeosphere for being my amazing beta, thank you angel!


End file.
